


A New Deal

by TrulyMightyPotato, writtenFIRES



Series: Royal Flush [25]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Broadcasting, Depression, Gen, Prosthetics, Radio Equipment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyMightyPotato/pseuds/TrulyMightyPotato, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/pseuds/writtenFIRES
Summary: Dan and Phil have been struggling ever since That Night, and they're not sure what to do until a letter comes in the mail.





	A New Deal

“Got the post!”

Dan looked up at the sound of Phil’s cheerful voice and immediately frowned when the words fully registered. He was sitting at their shared kitchen table, going over some notes for their latest article.

“Phil, I told you not to worry about it.”

“Yes, yes, I  _ know,  _ but Dan, getting the mail is one of the highlights of my day! You know how much I love shooting the breeze with the postman. Such a swell guy….” Phil beamed at Dan while he set down the stack of letters, but Dan could see the residual weariness in those blue eyes. He felt it himself every single day.

Grumpily, Dan picked up the stack, sifting through it just as the kettle whistled in the kitchen. He’d barely looked over his shoulder at the noise before Phil was bustling past him.

“I’ve got it!”

“ _ Phil. _ ”

“It’s  _ fine _ , Dan. Stop worrying! I’m really getting the hang of this thing, you know.”

Dan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, a furrow entering his brow. “This thing,” what a simple way to refer to a prosthetic. Phil treated it like just another accessory, or a toy. Like it wasn’t a big deal at all- but again, Dan could see through that. They’d lived together for far too long now; attempting to hide a thing from the other was a hopeless venture.

The prosthetic was honestly a monstrous thing. A wooden base attached to the stub of Phil’s lower arm with leather straps, hosting a set of split-hooks in lieu of fingers. Dan could still recall Phil’s expression when the doctor showed it to him, how all the color drained from his face. Dan would guess it was at that moment the reality of it all truly settled in for Phil. It was a horrible sight. Dan never wanted to see that look on Phil’s face again, but he still caught glimpses of it. In the morning, just before bed, catching Phil after a shower; every time he had to attach or detach the limb, that flicker of horror would be there. All because he…

“We’re going to need to pick up more tea bags!”

Phil’s shout from the kitchen ripped Dan from his brooding thoughts. He shook himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He couldn’t think like that. Phil didn’t  _ want  _ him to think like that, and thinking like that had led to… forget it. Dan just had to put it out of his mind, focus on the present. Like the mail. Nothing but bills, really. He had to sigh at the sight of them.

After their friend Chris had moved in to help out, it had gotten a little easier, but they were still struggling. No one wanted to admit it. The income of a stagehand and two freelance reporters just barely kept a roof over their heads and meager food on the table. Enough to survive, which at the end of the day Dan supposed was better than the alternative. He frowned, cutting into the envelopes with a worn letter opener. 

“Have you already reused the last ones?”

“Yes, we soaked them three times yesterday, remember?” Phil walked out of the kitchen with one steaming mug, setting it beside Dan. “It was basically water by the last batch. We’re nearly out of sugar, too.” He retreated to the kitchen for his own mug and Dan couldn’t help the bitter twinge he felt.

There was a time Phil could have brought out both mugs simultaneously.

“Did we already tap the neighbors?” Dan pulled the bills from their pretty envelopes and skimmed past the lines of text to the real meat of it all: the numbers. His nose scrunched up.

“Asked basically everyone else who lives here for a cup at this point, yeah.” Phil returned with his mug and plopped down at the table. He made to hold the mug between his hands, an old habit, jerking to a stop halfway when he realized. He was obviously trying to be subtle as he settled back and moved his prosthetic to the side, blue eyes shifting away.

Dan saw through it all and felt that bitter twinge again. He wasn’t sure if the slip itself or the shame shining clear in those eyes upset him more. Phil shouldn’t feel ashamed. He was a victim. But Dan knew from experience it just wasn’t that easy. Too many judgmental stares on the street, too many hushed whispers and pitying looks from shopkeeps—and from their own coworkers at the paper. It built up over time, and Dan wanted nothing more than to lash out at them all, to tuck Phil behind him and hide him away from the cruel world. Like he’d done with the war.

Well, look where that got them.

“Then… guess we’ll have to see if we can bargain the price down a bit.” Dan set the bills aside in a growing stack but paused at the sight of one envelope. It wasn’t an address he recognized, but it also looked more formal than a personal letter. Hesitantly, he cut it open, slipping out the expensive, embossed parchment with gradually escalating brows.

“Maybe, if we offer to buy say,  _ several  _ boxes of tea instead of just the one, he’ll give us a discount-” Phil was still going on about their current conundrum, but Dan cut him off as his eyes zipped across the lines on the page.

“Phil.  _ Phil.  _ Phil, read this.” Dan was shoving the paper into his roommate’s face before he could receive an answer, eyes wide and lips thinned out with shock. He almost looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Phil blinked a bit at the display but accepted the page with his hooks. He took a moment to admire the quality of the paper and the neat type of the script before actually making an attempt to absorb the information itself. Slowly, his own expression shifted to nearly match Dan’s, and eventually he met his friend’s eyes in disbelief.

“Is this a joke?”

“No way. No one would spend money on that kind of paper for a jest.” Dan snatched the page back, minding Phil’s prosthetic, and read it over again.

“B-but- radio? Us? Why would they want  _ us _ -”

“I.. I don’t know. The broadcast maybe? At that ceremony?”

“You mean the one where…” 

They both shared a grimace. It wasn’t exactly a  _ pleasant  _ memory, knowing there’d been an assassin in the wings and a corpse on the ground at the end of it all. Even so, the announcing part  _ had _ been rather fun. They hadn’t been given another chance to try it, though, especially after the incident around Christmas.

“I didn’t even think anyone remembered that by now, to be honest. I mean- our bit in it.”

“I know, but… look. There’s no mistaking it. It’s a real offer here, Phil.” Dan furrowed his brows and cupped at the lower half of his face with his fingers, the gears spinning away in his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard of these guys before, but… I don’t know. New stations are popping up every month. Should we pursue it?” He looked back up at Phil, trying to gauge how his longtime partner-in-crime (so to speak) felt about all of this. “It could be a risk. It could be a  _ mistake _ . It’s so new, and… how many people even have radios…?”

Phil’s face twisted in response to his own mental debate. He squeezed at the handle of his mug, eyes flitting about the room but not really focusing on anything in particular. Dan could tell Phil was longing to drum fingers that no longer existed against the wood and felt a pang of sympathy.

“I… I think we should do it.” Blue eyes finally looked back to Dan as a bit of determination filtered onto Phil’s face.

“But Phil…”

“ _ Dan,  _ think about it. We don’t… exactly have a lot of prospects going on right now. Even the paper’s cut us down a bit.” Controversy? Or uncertainty they could get the job done? They didn’t know, and it didn’t matter; either way, they were losing money. “It sounds like they might be offering us  _ a lot.  _ We should… we’d be doing ourselves a massive disservice if we didn’t at least go and  _ check it out. _ ”

Dan sighed and ran a hand anxiously through his hair.

“I don’t…”

“Dan.” Phil reached over to set the one hand he had left on Dan’s wrist, giving it a bit of a squeeze. The gesture would be utterly taboo out in public and even in private, it was a little startling. But this was Phil. Dan was more than accustomed to how tactile Phil could be by now and the action was successful in steadying him somewhat. Phil’s reassuring smile took that reinforced foundation and built a house on it.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re not accepting anything, we won’t just sign any contracts willy-nilly. We’ll just go and have a chat, and see what they’re offering. What we’d be getting ourselves into. Zero commitment. Got it?”

Dan stared at Phil, his heart fluttering away with anxiety in his chest, squeezing at his lungs to make his breath grow short. He pressed his lips tightly together and looked down for a moment. Phil’s fingers were warm on the patch of skin exposed by the cuff of his sleeve. They managed to keep him grounded. After a few tries, he rattled in a deep breath and let it back out again. Slowly, he looked back up at Phil, patiently waiting with that same gentle smile spread across his face.

“I…”

In the corner of Dan’s peripheral, the metal of Phil’s hooks gleamed in sunlight streaming through the window. He swallowed hard, mind trickling back to all they’d faced in the past few months. All the trials and tribulations, the growing struggles, how they were just barely scraping by. And all of it made things harder for Phil. Phil, who was missing  _ an arm _ , all because Dan couldn’t catch a grip. His own fingers tensed against the table.

“...alright.  _ Alright.  _ But no commitment. We’re just going to go check it out, and that’s it. Yeah?”

Phil was practically beaming.

“Yeah.” He gave Dan’s wrist one more squeeze before pulling away, sitting back to sip at his mug. “Besides. If anything, they’ll offer us complimentary tea. That should be incentive enough.” He bounced his eyebrows cheekily.

Dan snorted and drank from his own cup.

“Chance to drink our weight in free tea, got it.”

\----

“And this is where you would be broadcasting.”

Phil and Dan stepped into the room, which was just a bit bigger than the kitchen in their shared apartment. There wasn’t much to it decorations wise, as a majority of the space was taken up by a broad desk covered in equipment similar to what they’d been using at the ceremony. There was a clock and a calendar, a little phone, a phonograph and of course, two massive microphones about the size of their faces. The space was lit solely by electric lamps, as the two large windows on either side only showcased other empty rooms.

Phil moved forward first, running his hand along the device with all the knobs and dials which would magically allow people all across the city to hear their voices. He could picture it now, Dan and himself sitting in these chairs and happily bringing the good citizens of Boston up-to-date on all manner of affairs. This would be more than their little column in the paper. This would be  _ so much  _ more. An entirely new beginning, a new career, a jumpstart to their lives. He turned to shoot Dan a bright look.

Dan’s mouth twisted. Clearly, he’d been anxious, but Phil’s little smiles always managed to root beneath those negative feelings and upturn them. He looked over to the woman who’d been showing them around the station; darker skinned with even darker hair and brown eyes which practically seemed to glow. She had freckles too, which Phil had found absolutely adorable.

“Miss Ann…”

“You can call me Margaret, if you like.” Margaret got a bit of a smirk, but her stance remained stoutly professional. Dan could only imagine what she must be like when not at work as a secretary. 

“Er, right, Margaret. So… we’d just be in here, alone. Working?” Dan watched Phil carefully out of the corner of his eye. The man was beyond accident prone and the last thing either of them needed was a bill from their prospective employer for breaking some expensive piece of radio equipment.

“Well, during broadcasts, yes. We’d like to try and minimize unnecessary background noise. Now before and after your sessions, you may have a meeting with a supervisor to discuss any improvements or issues, or to just go over the day’s topics. But you’re getting a lot of free reign here.” Phil and Dan must have hosted equally lost expressions because Margaret gave a bit of a sigh and tried to elaborate. “Think of it the same way the two of you have been running your newspaper column. Just with less writing and more talking, and also less field work. You’re the  _ reporters  _ here, you just tell the news like it is. We’ll get our information from the papers and other sources.”

“Less field work,” well if that wasn’t music to their ears. Much as Phil loved romping about the city with his camera, catching all the sights and sounds, it could get a bit much sometimes. Plus, after recent events, the streets hadn’t exactly become  _ safer _ . Really, there was no neighborhood without some kind of discontent or violence breaking out between gangs. Mir’s return to the public fold had rocked the entire city, and it showed.

“So… that’s it then. Just, telling the news. To the listeners?” Dan knew he must have sounded terribly slow, but it was a lot to process. This entire field was about as brand new as it got, with equipment to match. They’d never considered this line of work before- Hell, it hadn’t even  _ been  _ a line of work when they started out. At least Phil was in the same boat.

It was quite obvious Margaret wanted nothing more than to roll her eyes. Too bad it was likely in her job description to remain pleasant.

“That’s about the jist of it. Come in, get your news, do your little stint on the microphones and head out. Details will be in the contracts but there’s the barebones. So-” she placed hands on her hips, smile a little crooked- “you interested?”

Phil and Dan exchanged looks, then returned their attention to Margaret. Phil made his way back over but started to speak before he reached them.

“I think we need to talk about it some more before we make any decisions.” He smiled at Dan, reading the relief on his face. “So… would you be our secretary then, too? Do we get a secretary?”

Margaret’s eyebrows rose, then she smirked, stifling down a laugh. “Oh, no.  _ I  _ wouldn’t be your secretary. I’m your  _ boss’  _ secretary. You do get one though. Granted, she’ll be out of the job for a few weeks soon. She has a baby on the way.”

“Baby?! And she’s still allowed to work?” Phil asked, shocked. That was pretty rare, even with more women joining the workforce.

Margaret shrugged.

“She sits down most of the time, so it’s not really a big deal. She insisted, anyway. Here, I’ll take you to meet her. Maybe she can help you make up your minds about our offer.” She headed out the door, waving for them to follow.

Phil and Dan exchanged looks again before dutifully trailing after their guide. A few rooms down Margaret stopped to knock on a door, triggering another female voice to call through the wood.

“Come in.”

Margaret pushed the door open and ushered the pair inside, shooting the woman sitting at a desk a much more bubbly grin.

“Louise! The radio boys are here. I’ve already shown them their ‘office,’ but they were asking about you.”

“Oh, were they?” The woman sent all three of them a smile. She had eyes the color of a clear spring sky and blond hair which pooled about her shoulders. Her pregnancy showed quite a bit as she did her best to stand, the task obviously strenuous in her current condition as she gave a grunt. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Oh! Wait, no, don’t feel the need to stand, miss-” Phil stepped forward, arms raised to supplement his words. He noticed how Louise’s gaze immediately went to his prosthetic and deflated some, arms quickly dropping back to his sides. He took his step back and was instantly more self-conscious. “I mean, we don’t… you can keep sitting down. Don’t strain yourself for us.”

Louise winced.

“I apologize. That was rather rude of me.” Her sincere tone eased some of the protective fire which had sparked inside of Dan. She, too, seemed relieved by Phil’s generosity and reclaimed her seat with a sigh. One hand rested on her stomach while she smiled again, clearly trying to rectify the awkward first impressions.

“Thank you. I’m Louise Pentland. If you happen to sign with our company, I’ll be your secretary for the duration of your stint with us.”

Phil still looked a little put-out, so Dan bit the bullet and stepped forward.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pentland. I’m Daniel Howell and this is my partner, Philip Lester. You can call us Dan and Phil if you want, though. We’re not much for formalities.” Getting called by their last names always just sounded  _ weird _ . Hopefully his offer wasn’t deemed too unprofessional.

Louise appeared to relax a bit.

“Well, in that case, you can call me Louise. Whatever’s the most comfortable. We’ll be working together closely in the upcoming weeks before I have to give birth.” She looked down at the round swell of her stomach with an endearment only mothers could show. “That way you won’t be too lost with my substitution in the meantime. It’ll only be temporary.”

Phil rubbed at the back of his neck. He’d finally recovered enough to jump in the conversation again.

“Are you sure? I mean, don’t get me wrong. You seem like a  _ swell  _ person and I’m actually really looking forward to wor-” He caught Dan’s glance and stumbled to correct himself. “- _ maybe  _ working with you in the future. But, if you’re having a baby, don’t you need to stay home to help raise it… him… her…?” His expression was sheepish.

“We’re hoping it’s a boy.” Louise chuckled a bit at Phil’s struggle, giving her belly a little rub. “We already have a girl, Darcy.” She sighed and straightened up in her seat some. “I appreciate your concern, but really, the baby will be fine. He or she will have their father while I’m here, and then they’ll have me the rest of the time. Darcy dealt with much the same and she turned out berries. I enjoy my work too much to stop now. Couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house all day.” She got a devious look similar to what Margaret had hosted earlier.

The boys had to wonder just what they’d gotten themselves into. Sure, they hadn’t signed anything  _ yet _ , but the offer was looking more and more promising. They hadn’t cared for some of their coworkers at the paper; all men, of course. It was refreshing to be dealing with not only women, but people who knew how to handle themselves and enjoyed their jobs. That kind of feeling could be utterly infectious in a work environment.

Phil was looking to Dan with those big, blue eyes of his. The expression always reminded Dan of a puppy and could be just as exasperating. Granted, he really shouldn’t be surprised. The moment Phil had convinced him to check things out, he’d already won. Dan couldn’t deny the prospect was both interesting and promising, offering them both an entirely new avenue for their passion and inspiration. Less danger, easier work, pleasant company, and better pay as the cherry on top. What wasn’t there to like? This was the epitome of a gift horse, and everyone knew it was bad luck to look one of those in the mouth. It was a real opportunity here.

Dan’s eyes drifted to Phil’s prosthetic, but he knew how to be subtle about it by now. A real opportunity. No chances of Phil getting shot again. No assassins or running on the fringes of gang territory. No direct dealings with Boston’s seedy underground for the very best and latest scoop to earn their paycheck. A steady stream of money, so they’d never be out of tea or sugar or  _ anything _ , and they could all rest a little easier. They could pay Chris back for all his help. Phil would be happier. Dan just knew he would; could see it in those bright eyes. Phil was positively  _ excited  _ to try this, but he wouldn’t do it if Dan said no. If Dan didn’t want to do it, if he was too uncomfortable, Phil would set aside his wants. He always did. That knowledge made Dan’s stomach twist. He sighed out a breath. 

“Let’s take a look at those contracts then, shall we?”

Phil’s expression practically exploded with giddiness. Obviously, he wanted to tug Dan into a boisterous hug, but there were too many eyes. Nice as Margaret and Louise were, societal expectations remained heavy shackles on everyone. Phil was forced to rein in his joy with a little bounce and laugh, which set the two women giggling as well. The sight, the sound of it, coaxed a small smile to Dan’s face.

“Oh, you’re gonna be a real humdinger on the air, aren’t you?” Louise straightened a few stacks of paper on her desk, tapping them against the wood.

Margaret pulled the door open again. “Of course. Our boss always knows what he’s doing. Means a lot when he asks for you by name. Come along, Dan and Phil. He’s been expecting you; we’ve got the paperwork all ready to go.”

Phil was still bouncing a bit as he grinned at Dan, the pair exchanging looks one more time. Dan didn’t know where this road would lead them, or if it would be as grand as they anticipated. But right now, it made Phil happy; breathed a new life into him Dan hadn’t seen since that horrible night in the snow and fire. Even if it turned out to be a failure in the end, a fruitless venture with little gained, Dan supposed that alone would make it all worth it.

He never wanted to see Phil follow in his footsteps.

\----------------------

“Alright boys, are you ready?”

Dan looked up from where he’d been fiddling with the knobs of the radio equipment. Margaret and Louise both stood in the doorway of the little studio, striking contrasts yet somehow hosting almost identical expressions of anxious smarm. It had been Margaret who spoke, so Dan addressed her, hiding away his own little smirk. 

“I dunno. Still think there’s a chance we might short out the entire building, make your first ever broadcast an utter disaster. Sure you wanna trust us with this?”

Louise laughed, one hand resting on her stomach. “I know our technicians explained it all to you until you were both ready to rip your own ears off. I doubt you’d sit through all of that just to throw it out the window with a poor performance now. Just be yourselves.”

“Exactly. Boss wanted you two for being you. He knows you were a massive hit with Bostonians and that’ll carry over to here. Just… make sure your microphones are on. And don’t scratch the records.” Margaret teased.

“That would be why Dan,” Phil pointed to the man beside him, grinning, “is the one working the phonograph.”

“Right, can’t trust you with the really delicate stuff,” Dan quipped.

Louise snickered, saying, “Hey now, you trusted him with the clipboard.”

“Yeah, Dan! I’ve got the clipboard. I’ve got our entire itinerary, so you’d better  _ respect _ me.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Praise be to the clipboard carrier, I’d be utterly lost without you.” Dan’s snark drew an indignant look from Phil, but it was playful.

Abruptly, the ladies were being ushered out, several men now standing in the rooms on the other side of the windows. They’d be supervising the initial broadcast to make certain everything  _ did  _ run smoothly. There was a lot of money in this, after all. Phil and Dan had some room for error, but after the training they’d been receiving for over a week now everyone expected them to at least perform competently. Dan was admittedly a little nervous.

“Hey. Dan? We’ve got this.” Phil was smiling, but the hint of anxiety could be seen in his blue eyes too.

It made Dan feel better, knowing he wasn’t alone. He let loose a breathy laugh in an effort to relax some as one of the men behind the window counted down with his fingers.

“Yeah. Right. Without a doubt got this. Gonna nail it, right to the table.”

Phil snorted.

“That’s the spirit.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but the last few fingers were dropping. This was it. Now or never, all cards out on the table, time to play the new hand they’d been dealt; for better or worse.

_ “Hey, Dan?” Phil had asked that night after they signed the contracts, relaxing at the table with what remained of their tea. _

_ “Mm?” Dan had already been starting to drift, but the hesitation in Phil’s voice roused him. _

_ Phil fingered his mug, gaze sliding around the table at the scattered bills and notes. _

_ “You remember that night? When we went to Kjellberg’s mansion, and we all played poker together?” _

_ Dan’s brows furrowed some. What had brought this on? _

_ “Yes. Of course.” _

_ “We did so terribly. I think we did the worst out of everyone, even that young kid Mark had brought along.” Phil snapped his fingers. “Ethan. That was it. He was a complete beginner and I still think he took away something.” _

_ Dan scoffed. _

_ “We were beginners too, Phil. And no. I think the only ones who took away anything were Kjellberg and that Irishman.” He frowned. Three of those four men were dead now. Or, presumed such. Mark and Ethan had graves, though bodies were never found, and no one had seen Jack, a corpse or otherwise, since that night. How much had changed, had been lost, in a few months… _

_ Phil chuckled. _

_ “Yeah, you’re probably right.” His expression was soft, somber as he stared into his tea. He looked contemplative. “Didn’t really hit it on all eight, did we? It was bad. We lost all our money. But…” His gaze flicked up to Dan. “But we had fun. We really had a good time, didn’t we, Dan? We took the risks and lost but it’s… it’s a good memory.” _

_ A good memory made bittersweet by events which followed after, perhaps. But Phil was right. It was a pleasant memory Dan occasionally looked back on.  _

_ “I suppose.” _

_ “So… let’s treat this like that night.” A sort of determination entered those blue eyes, catching Dan off-guard. “We’re taking a risk. Putting cards on the table, yeah? All our chips. Let’s…” He huffed out a sigh. “No matter what happens, let’s enjoy this. Okay? Us, working together on something new, on something incredible and amazing. Okay? No matter what.” _

_ Dan stared at Phil, wide-eyed and uncertain of what to say. He hadn’t been expecting that sudden burst of fire, of hope and optimism, but then this was Philip Lester. He should know the man well enough by now. His own expression softened, some tension he hadn’t even noticed easing out of his shoulders. Dan gave a nod.  _

_ “Okay.” _

_ “No matter what?” _

_ “No matter what.” _

Dan flicked the switch and the microphones buzzed to life, signaling they should be on the air if everything else was set up right. He met Phil’s eager smile with a more subdued one of his own and nodded, gesturing for him to go ahead.

Phil bounced in his seat, his voice nearly breathless as he began. “Good evening, Boston, and welcome to the very first live broadcast of WBBN. Your station for the very latest in everything from news to music to the weather. We’re your hosts-”

“Daniel Howell.”

“-and Philip Lester, previously writers of the Nifty News column. And speaking of Nifty News…”

Dan watched as Phil barreled straight away into their first story of the night. He couldn’t help but smile. Phil had never looked more alive, even compared to their time as journalists before he lost his arm. No, this was good for Phil. Maybe... good for himself, as well? He glanced towards the window, where both Margaret and Louise were quick to give them thumbs-ups. He ducked his head a bit, smile growing, abashed when Phil caught him and instantly grinned from ear-to-ear. He gave Phil a nudge, glad the other couldn’t tease him about it just yet, and slipped into his own dialogue with a surprising ease. Yes, maybe they  _ could  _ do this. Maybe this was something they were meant to do all along.

Phil laughed at Dan’s quip about a man whose car had rolled straight into the river. Something which had been cold and hard inside of him for so long cracked open and crumbled away, and some of the shadows left his eyes. These were the cards they’d been dealt. Now all they had to do was play them.


End file.
